A Strange and Wonderful Family
by SkyeWriter
Summary: After the birth of his and Amy's second child, Rory has some reflections on fatherhood.   Pairings: Amy/Rory; lightly implied River/Eleven


Amy was still asleep when the baby woke up, her cry thin and wavering but loud enough to wake Rory, who'd been drowsing in a chair at Amy's bedside. He shot to his feet almost at once, crossing the short space to the plastic hospital cot in moments. He picked her up gently but awkwardly, wrapping her blanket around her a little and carefully cradling her head. He rocked her slowly and began to pace the room with her, saying inane little things to her that didn't make much sense. She quieted a little; her tiny arms stopped flailing, and she seemed to look up at him, her eyes dark and unfocused but still beautiful.

He might have been singing to her when the door opened silently and River stepped in. Rory turned, and she smiled at him as she shut the door halfway and walked over to join him and the baby.

"How's Mum?"

"Tired," he replied. "Resting. I didn't want to wake her."

River smiled as she glanced over at the hospital bed where Amy slept. "Of course." She turned her attention to the baby then, gently brushing her forehead with the backs of two fingers. "And how's little sister?"

"Fine, I think. I—she's stopped crying, at least."

Almost as if in response to this, the baby whimpered quietly, as though she wasn't quite sure if she was done crying yet. Rory redoubled his gentle efforts at rocking her, but River only laughed and smiled wider. "She is fine," she said.

"Where's the Doctor?" He hadn't seen him since right after the delivery, and he'd been asleep for quite a while after that besides.

"Oh, probably trying to sneak off somewhere in the TARDIS," River said, her smile growing sly. "He's not going anywhere, though, trust me."

Rory looked at her, his brow furrowing. "Did you do something to the TARDIS?"

"I _may_ have disrupted the temporal resonance patterns that allow the nav systems to set the spacetime coordinates before takeoff," she said, grinning. "With a spanner and a pair of wire cutters. But you didn't hear anything from me."

"Right." Rory shook his head and his attention drifted, as it so often had over the past several hours, to the baby. His daughter again. She was growing drowsy in his arms, her eyes blinking slowly even as one arm occasionally struck out to hit him in the chest.

"You know," he said after a moment, "I—I never got to hold you like this." River looked up at him, but said nothing, and he continued, "At Demon's Run. I mean, I did. Or I thought I did. But it was only a couple of times, and…" He shook his head. "I don't know. It feels like I never really got to be your father. Or any kind of father. At least 'til now."

"It's all kind of mixed-up and awful, isn't it?" she asked softly.

"Yeah." He swallowed. The baby was nearly asleep now. "I don't know. I'm probably just tired."

"You are my father, you know," River said after a few moments' silence. "And you always will be. And you'll be brilliant for her, and she'll be brilliant, even when…" She trailed off, her smile almost sad now.

"Do you know something about her?" Rory asked, looking up at her.

River only smiled. "Spoilers, Dad."

"Right." He shook his head. "Right."

The baby slept in his arms, and she somehow seemed heavier now that she was asleep. He kept rocking her gently as he crossed the room to his chair, hoping with every movement that he would not wake her. "Thank you for coming, River," he said as he sat down. "I know it was more Amy that wanted you to come, but… thank you."

"It's no trouble," River replied, bringing the room's other chair over to sit beside him. "Not for you and Mum."

They sat there quietly for a while, both of them staring at the sleeping baby, occasionally speaking to one another but mostly just enjoying the silence and each other's company.

Theirs was a strange family, Rory thought. He had for the most part long ago gotten used to it, but things like this seemed to bring it all rushing back. He remembered meeting River, and seeing baby Melody, and all the madness that had followed the revelation of her identity. He'd dealt with it much like he'd dealt with all the other mad things he'd seen since meeting the Doctor—he'd filed it away in the back of his mind, behind that door that he tried to keep shut, full of all the things he never wanted to think about much. But it still came back to him now and again, haunting him like all those things did.

This was different, though. This would be better. She was going to grow up happy and normal, with a Mum and a Dad and a strange grown-up sister (who would probably be more of an aunt), but it would still be normal. Nothing would happen to her, he would make sure of it. He'd thought, before the battle of Demon's Run and over the course of that almost endless summer, that he would have torn the universe apart to make sure Melody would grow up free from harm. He knew now that he couldn't, though. She was fine now, for the most part, and he was fine, and Amy was fine. And the baby… she was better than fine. And she would always be better than fine.

She woke up twenty minutes later when the Doctor stormed into the room, loudly demanding to know what River had done to his TARDIS. The sound of her crying and the Doctor's flustered, anxious apologies were enough to wake Amy just a few minutes after that, and they were all together again, a strange and wonderful family.


End file.
